Wendy's Tale
by TheThirteenthHour
Summary: When Wendy leaves all she's known behind to begin life anew she finds herself in unimagined situations. She must resist lures of desire and illusions of happiness in order to fulfill her dreams.
1. Girlhood

I stared at his small slumped form against the fading dusk reflecting through the drawing room window. His lips were drawn in a tight frown and his brow wrinkled in mock of deep thought, in truth of unsettling dreams. In a dim corner his boots rested, a crumpled heap, speaking of their age and misuse.

The air from the balcony was stiff and stagnate, another stuffy July evening amongst the sweltering buildings of the city. In the wake of twilight, children scuttled home along the lane whispering all of dreams, possibility and excitement. It seemed as though it had so long ago been us living for the thrill of hoping, hoping for the thrill of living. But for me girlhood's final threshold was fast approaching, and for my brothers' time was growing ever shorter.

I reached out to the boots gently securing one in each hand. I gazed at the beaten things sadly, how quickly my young brother had donned a man's clothing. Accompanied by nothing but the dull scrape of my house shoes on the carpeted floor I exited the drawing room in silence. So I left Michael to face his own dreams, there is too much of him that I could no longer know.

The house was how I had always known it, staunch, stable and always impeccable tidiness to match the impeccable and painfully appropriate décor. As a girl the perfect sterility of it had thrilled me and granted me a sort of peace. Now I looked at it as quaint reminder of days passed, days that wouldn't return.

The hallway was dark and resonated of things that had passed, the present state and things that might yet come. This world had once been humming with happiness and prospects, and I had loved it then. I was a child with the world in the pupil of her wide eyes. This house always reminded me of it.

Two years at finishing school, Madame Helena's Academy for Girls, and I had nothing different in my true demeanor to show for it. It had not changed my attitude, not after summers of living like a disgusting heathen, bathing naked in the midst of twenty boys and crawling through the dingy summer heat to follow savages and pirates. No polish could ever clean me as well as anyone would have liked. The old boots and I were beginning to look alike.

After five years I was once again living in the nursery. The walls seemed to be washed in pallor, lacking all of the luster and shades of excitement they once possessed. I idly paced about the room with the boots in hand; somehow and without thought I always stopped at the window. Absently, I unlocked it and let the setting sun reflecting off some opposite building fill the room.

He had not come for me this spring. Somehow I knew that he had found other windows, younger adventurers. I couldn't exactly claim to be sad of it, there were so many other things to worry about. My time had after all been quite occupied with garden parties, evenings at the ballet, visits to the resplendent homes of old socialite dragons and of course making sure that my youngest brother was keeping up with his studies and having appropriate adventures. I was growing up, as I had so long ago promised not to.

The stiff heat was giving way to evening breezes. They wound through the room and down the hall, softly ushering out some of the wretched humidity. Sunset was but thirty minutes away. Soon Mother would be in to see to it that I was properly dressed for the most important night of my young life. Tonight was after all the surprise engagement party that I had known about for two weeks.

As soon as the sun set the lamps in Joseph Absmeire III's garden would be lit, the fine china set out and guests would arrive for the engagement of his only son Joseph Absmeire IV to Ms Wendy Moira Angela Darling. I almost laughed aloud at the very thought of the arrangement. That is certainly not to say I found the young man completely disagreeable.

Where would I even begin to describe my dearest Joseph Absmeire IV, but to say that never was there a gentleman so honest, hard working or sincere. Every Sunday found him bright-eyed and fully awake in the pew of a church. He shone his shoes and dressed as any sensible banker should. He did whatever he could to please his mother and aunts. But above all things he was completely without exceptionality.

I tuckedMichael's boots away into my own closet. I would need them later that evening...


	2. Strange Light

I sat before the mirror on my newest dressing table, it had been a gift from Father on the eve of my seventeenth birthday celebration. The ornate oak drawers were embellished with small inlaid designs plated with gold and other metals. I had honestly hoped for something a little more practical, but knew that Father only had it in his heart to please me. The poor aging man, had been wandering off of late, walking the polished districts of London like a lost soul. I often wondered what he was so ardently searching for out in there in the dusk.

The very last rays of the dying sun sifted in past the pale blue curtains. In the mirror they were mangled and twisted reflecting off into the rest of the room at distorted angles. Everything looked so different in this light. I mused to myself that I might be looking at this safe little world of mine for the very last time. Tomorrow would find me on a ship bound for the West Indies, never to turn her head or give a glance back to England. Thrilling though it may have seemed in better moments, I found the idea increasingly unsettling as the moments of escape approached.

The entire plan had begun taking form no less than seven months ago when I had received a distressed line of correspondence from my brother, John Darling. Unhappy with his life, John had stated that he wished to set sail for distant and uncharted horizons, happily citing the adventures of their youth. He wanted to feel thrill again, no more the cold unforgiving walls of university nor the droning voices of his grey professors. So he proposed that he would take his chances against all odds, find himself an enterprising business partner and set sail for the Americas.

Ever the concerned elder sister, I responded to John immediately. I was quite surprised that it was he who seemed to miss our time in Neverland the most. I had always assumed that he, being the most given to scholarly ambition, would have the easiest time growing up and finding his way into bustling pursuits of trade within London. Nevertheless, I did my best to assure John that whatever he chose to do I would defend his course of action to Mother and Father.

It was not until a full month after this line of correspondence that little hopes and ideas began forming in the corner of my young mind. As I spent evenings being whisked about town to various social engagements and my father's office parties a plan began to slowly take shape. I wondered how I had not been so quick to share John's sentiments of disappointment with the world into which we were so rapidly being introduced. My life had become and sedate blur of niceties and meaningless propriety; escape was imperative.

So I began thinking out the best way to broach the subject with my brother. At first I half-jokingly mentioned it to him on a quiet evening when we were alone in the drawing room. Mother and Father were at a small party across town, while Michael was off in some corner of the house practicing his violin. It occurred to me that this might be the only chance I should have to mention it to him before he finally took action on his word and left London once and for all. So I cleared her throat in the dry cold December air and gazed at him hopefully.

"John, could you come sit here by the fire with me. I want to discuss your future adventures while we have the chance." I smiled brightly, doing my best to be charming. It really took so little effort most of the time.

"Certainly," John smiled. It was at this moment that I also noticed how much like a man he was starting to look. No longer the pale lanky student. Now, a good foot taller than me, he carried himself with confidence and had all the splendid good looks to match his regal manner.

He took a seat in the chair next to my own, and for a moment neither one of us spoke at all. We simply stared ahead into the flames of the fireplace, soaking in its radiant warmth. I knew this was the moment. I lifted my large brown eyes to draw his gaze.

"You know, I was thinking, the West Indies are quite far. Who will be there to take care of you? You have no wife, and I hate the thought of sending you out into the wide world alone. I couldn't bare to think of you not being well looked after." I began slowly, trying to read his expression.

John smiled cautiously, surely he though I must have known how ridiculous my talk of propriety sounded. He was leaving all safety and respectability behind to chase real life. My words were empty, though there was something else I was getting at. Something that John had also been considering in the very back of his own mind. He had dismissed the thought of me joining him quickly, though. Asking his only sister to give up a life of beauty and comfort to satisfy his curiosity about the world was far too selfish.

So I continued speaking. "Well, I thought to myself, why can't I go with John. Surely mother and father cannot object to that, after all I will be well chaperoned." I paused again to watch him.

Despite his efforts, John erupted into small bouts of laughter. My only response was a blank unsteady expression. Was he completely dismissing the idea? I could not tolerate it if he should laugh at me in such a moment. He gently reached out and took my hand then. He stopped laughing and looked at me long and hard, trying to decide if I was truly serious about what I had previously stated.

"I am sorry for that outburst. You simply sounded so earnest about your desire to be appropriately chaperoned. I could not very well decide if you were truly serious." He smiled apologetically, giving my hand a small kiss.

"Does that mean you are agreeable to the idea?" I ventured. My hand involuntarily began squeezing his in anticipation of the response.

"Agreeable, I am ecstatic that you would even consider such a thing! Oh won't it be wonderful, Wendy! Our very own adventures out there in the world. And I promise I will never make you attend another garden party, no matter what continent we land on!" All the happiness and youthful grace in John's manner poured forth as he jumped up from the chair. He drew me into a glad embrace then, burying his large nose in my hair. I loved being drawn into him like that, and always swore I could smell something of the ocean on him. Thus began, our great plans for escape.

I quickly jolted out of my reverie at the sound of Michael stirring at the end of the hallway. I had absently left the door to my room open. Without hesitation I rose to lock the white enamel door. I could not risk my youngest brother interrupting my last moments of meditation. Returning to the table I gazed at the letter I had written not more than two days ago. In it I asked my parents to forgive me, but clearly stated there was too much beyond the horizon for me to ignore. I would not live my life as a fixture, and I hoped they would understand and maybe even find the courage to follow their children one day. To Michael I left only my love.

I sealed the envelope and moved to rise from the chair once again. But at that very moment something caught my eye. It was the wide eyed girl in the mirror there, that Wendy Darling who always gazed back at me in perfect chilling silence. Her lips moved with mine, but never a sound issued from them. She was staring at me blankly now, no expectation, no judgement, simply watching. Her brown hair was pushed up into a tidy french bun and her skin seemed pale considering the season, nothing about her was astounding, except those eyes. I loved those eyes.

I wondered if the Wendy in the mirror was a good daughter to her parents. If she was on her way to her engagement party, ready to accept the fine life that she had been born into with gratitude and grace. Was she happy, or was she simply more grown up than I? I searched for the answer in her face, but found only more questions. I thought I might drive myself insane, or even worse abandon my plan of escape if I stood there staring any longer. So I turned to the closet.

The boots still laid there, motionless and suffocating in their antiquity. I picked them up and placed them on my bed, next to a faded pair of trousers, a knit cap and a worn out tweed jacket. My disguise was ready...


	3. Side by Side in the Fading

My walk to the docks was long. In the approaching dusk I kept strictly to the side streets, sure to show my face to no one. The brown knit cap was pulled down upon my head tightly my hair tucked up inside, completely obscuring my features. So I made my steady progress toward the agreed rendevous point, head down and never veering from the decided course.

John, as promised, was waiting in front of Vorhee's Fish Market. Etched into the pale sky, he stood a solitary figure rising up out of the masses. John had always been like that, alone in the midst of people always absorbed in his own realities. Just as I stepped forward to approach him, he turned his gaze in another direction. I followed his line of sight to see her, a delicate red-head sauntering in his direction. She called out to him, this young virtuous looking man.

I dodged behind a pillar to watch what he might do. As I watched more closely I noticed the flashy green frock on the girl, revealing her as a prostitute. I wondered if I should make my presence known at such an inopportune moment. Thinking better of it I remained hidden, to watch the scene unfold.

The bawdy maid was completely shameless in her appeal to his basest of instincts. The ruddy curves of her chest swayed as she jostled about, attempting to win just one smile from the handsome boy. To my surprise he did not blush, nor did he turn away in any attempt to avoid her lewd presence. Rather, he regarded her as he might regard any passing merchant.

She engaged him for a moment, her red lips wagging sassily. He smiled and looked at her making some sort of appraisal, tempting yes, but ultimately not worth the trouble. He looked her directly in the eyes then, smiled again thinly, and tipped his hat ever so slightly in farewell. She pouted for only a moment, then gave him a wink and continued down the lane into the lights of the city. I pursed my lips in approval.

In some strange way I felt incredibly proud of my brother, the way he had looked at that girl as if she were any other person. I wondered how Joseph Absmeir IV would have handled the situation. Really it would have never happened, Master Absmeir would never deign to be caught near any establishment as seedy as Vorhee's Fish Market. I laughed to myself quietly, and made my way across the road.

John was still gazing down the road after the young woman when I finally approached him. His first reaction was that of shock, not embarrassment. Though I couldn't actually decide if the shock might not also be due to my ridiculous disguise. So there we stood in the middle of the wide alley, side by side in the fading dusk.

"Well, young man. I can see you are of upstanding moral character," I quietly mused.

John smiled with his bright green eyes. "You look absolutely charming." He made to pull the cap off of my head. We were far enough from any part of the city where we might chance to be recognized.

I dodged his hand and laughed. "If we need to be to Bristol by dawn, I suggest we get going."

"True enough," he sighed. "I would offer you my arm..." He looked me up and down, obviously jesting of my manly guise.

"I think that given the situation we can skip the pleasantries." I snapped in a facade of indignance. I did however hand him the heavy bag that I had been toting.

Nothing particularly important to me was placed in the bag. Oh, perhaps a few things for which I cared dearly, a notebook, a silver locket that belonged to my grandmother and even a small thimble connected to a memory long since dimmed by time and experience, for instance. The rest of the hefty burlap sack was filled with all sorts of jewelry, silverware, plates and clothing, all hastily taken from my hope chest. If John and I should fall onto times of trouble or need we could easily barter with anything in this unassuming sack. I smiled at the thought of selling my dowry to win my freedom.

As John heaved the bundle up onto his shoulder, he looked at me curiously. I had not told him about my plans to raid my marriage chest, sure that he would disapprove. Confirmation of such was certainly present in his face. So we began to meander towards the place where John's new partner had agreed to join us. We hardly spoke at all.

Forty minutes of walking along the outskirts of the city and we were finally nearing the crossroads where John's partner would be waiting with a carriage. Light from the sun was all but gone then, but city lights and stars helped us stay the course. Despite my iron resolve to leave I found my thoughts constantly wandering back home. At times I even wondered what Joseph Absmeir IV was doing at this very moment, had he already learned of my treachery?

I pictured him. He would be in his father's illuminated gardens, receiving word from my youngest brother that I had fled taking with me the entire contents of my dowry. Moreover, in my mind's version of this story, I saw him doing an incredibly unpredictable thing. Instead of running out into the night wrought with despair, like an appropriate gentleman, he would stand there, stone cold. Then in an instant slam his fists down on the table in an amazing show of force, completely uncharacteristic.

But the best and most thrilling thing was that he would harness his horse and ride off into the night with wild blood. No rest until he should find his Wendy darling. That was my dream of Joseph Absmeir IV, that he should fight for me if he really hoped to be the only man I would ever lay next to. I shirked it all off as meaningless fantasy, never would the plain and hapless banker decide to abandon propriety for passion.

The countryside was completely silent, save the occasional bird call ringing through the treetops. It felt as if the entire world had become hushed and still. John had slipped several yards ahead of my stride, but I wasn't sure I wanted to catch up to him. I somehow feared he would turn to me at some moment and declare this entire plan of action to be a useless mistake, and that he was going to return me to our parents immediately. I could not have bared returning to that life I left such a short while ago, not at that moment, not ever.

Then, just up on the visible horizon at the top of a small slope in the road I saw the carriage. Something like relief surged through my exhausted body. As I saw it John also became aware of it, and he stopped and turned back to me. He emphatically motioned for me to keep stride with him, so I quickened my pace. I was glad of having Michael's well worn boots as I attempted to catch up with my brother.

As we approached the carriage, we discovered there was no one in the driver's seat. No person had jumped out to greet us, and the clearing in which the crossroads stood revealed there was not another soul for miles around in any direction. A lump began growing in my throat as Michael's calls to his partner became louder and more desperate. While his back was turned I slowly approached the side of the small cab. The horses were clam and had stayed put, despite being left to their own devices which only served to make thing seem that much more amiss.

I heard a gentle rustling from within the carriage. I immediately drew back from the thing, fearing that whatever might be going on inside could be quite dangerous. John had wandered off into the tall grasses of the meadow. Something painful churned inside me. Imploring every ounce of calm and rationale I possessed , I once again crept towards the now rocking coach.

The motion from within became increasingly violent as I struggled with a decision. Surely, if I should tear the door open I might risk attack by whatever was making the growing noise. On the other hand, John's partner could be in dire need of assistance. Ever myself, without notifying my brother I tore open the black lacquered door.

What I saw there caused me to reel back in both surprise and disgust...


	4. Within the Rocking Carriage

From an obscene and sweaty entanglement of slick limbs and naked flesh came a small gasp. The whore had noticed the door to the coach was open, and I was staring in disbelief and disgust. My mind sputtered in useless interpretation as I stood there slack jawed. Several seconds must have passed before the man even began to slow at his conquest. And by then I had already turned on my heel and taken after John. Despite my panic and unwillingness to completely process what I had just witnessed, I caught my brother's stride in the tall grass.

He looked at me with concern. "What is it, Wendy?"

"The carriage is not empty," I breathed slowly. My legs burned from tearing across the meadow with such fervor. John reached out to steady me as I stooped to catch my breath. The expression in his eyes was unreadable.

"Do you mean to tell me Miguel is inside? Is he alive, how could he have failed to hear my calls?" John murmured half to himself, looking back to the road. He pulled the cap from my head, allowing my hair to fall down around my shoulders and even past. I sat myself down in the grass and voluntarily fell back, laying stretched out in the open field.

"He seemed very much alive when I saw him," I mumbled into the night sky.

John assured me that everything would be fine. He asked me to stay put and catch my breath, he would check on his partner. I did not explain the reason for my shock and he made no further inquiries. So he left me sprawled out, gazing up at all of the stars. In my right hand I held the knit cap clutched tight, and my right foot was resting against the burlap sack that John had left to my temporary care.

The stars were so different away from the clutter and disorienting lights of the city. They seemed so spectacular that night, not trivial. Naked and brilliant, they pierced something within me, and I felt my quick laboring breath dying away in the face of all their glory. It was as exhilirating as anything I could ever imagine, laying there so defenseless and so still like that. My mind left the events at hand easily.

Suddenly I was not shocked nor horrified that I had happened upon John's business partner enjoying the company of a prostitute. In fact, the idea began to strike me as something rather hilarious in nature. So I lifted my voice to the watching stars in short low laughter. But what began as quiet chuckling soon errupted into full force snorts and giggles. The thought that John might find me in such a state certainly crossed my mind, but it seemed so unimportant. There I lie in that clearing gazing up and shuddering head to toe in convulsions of joy.

I am not sure if I laughed for the awkward circumstance, or my complete elation at finally seeing the sky with my own eyes again. For you see, I remembered only one other time when I had looked at the stars with such wonder. A quiet spring night when my brothers and I followed a ruddy boy out of our nursery window and into the clear skies of London, all some seven years passed. The memory always held some kind of dull sting, those feelings of weightlessness would never return.

My private thoughts sort of died away as I came back to my other senses. I heard John shouting far off, probably at Miguel. I smiled to myself, leave it to my brother to pick a lusty Spaniard for a partner. Without much resistance from my tired limbs I raised myself out of the grass and started towards the crossroads. The night was growing ever darker and if we hoped to have at least some rest before setting sail, we would have to make headway towards Bristol. I lugged the knapsack and brown cap behind me.

As I approached the two men I noticed how much taller John was than this Miguel fellow. I mused to myself that if this disgraceful meeting should end in any sort of fight, my brother would certainly emerge victorious. However, their talk seemed more peaceful now, John was even laughing as the other man sort of explained himself and the blonde prostitute who gazed distractedly in my direction. I avoided her eyes, afraid she might see something about me I did not want her to know.

John and Miguel continued to chuckle softly, as I shrunk under the gaze of the blonde. She sort of swayed side to side and the low light emitting from the carriage cast her shadow over my form. I noticed the color of her lips, their candy shimmer. I wasn't sure what made me more uneasy, they way she beheld me or the way I wanted to look at her. Not ten minutes ago I had seen her body completely exposed and vulnerable. And I wondered what it might be like to look again, this time without rush or surprise. My cheeks burned red.

"Wendy, come here," John's voice startled me. I raised my eyes as I stepped out of the whore's shadow.

I lingered closely to my brother's side, assessing his new partner critically. Though shorter than John, he was by no means a small man. Rough and stocky with raven hair and sparkling dark eyes his physical appearance was oddly pleasing. He had a sly sort of grin, and he watched me with gentle interest. Instead of displaying any of the shyness I had towards the girl I looked the cocky businessman directly in the eyes, searching him out.

"Miguel, this is my dear elder sister Wendy Moira Angela Darling," John spoke evenly. He rested a protective hand upon my shoulder and pulled me in closer. "Wendy, this is my partner in investment and business venture, Miguel Laughlin."

"I must confess, Ms Darling, your brother failed to mention how charming you are." The raven haired gentleman, took my hand into his own and placed a small kiss there. I smiled thinly and raised my brown in cold assessment. I had learned something about men like this one long ago, never give a moment's impression that you are taken in by their candied words. In a poignant display of boldness, I shifted my gaze directly to the prostitute.

Miguel and John followed my eyes, and my brother tightened his grip upon my shoulder in frustration. I would not be denied my explanations. The girl stepped up closer and threw back her shoulders with pride. I avoided her eyes, I could not have kept up the display if I were forced to behold the ice in those eyes. Miguel cleared his throat as he gently released my hand and motioned her closer.

"John, Ms Darling, this is my sweet Cecilia. She was born in Veracruz, Mexico and will act as a guide on our independent navigation of the West Indies. She knows those islands as well as any British navy man or pirate." Miguel smiled widely as he beheld the woman. I saw some sort of pride steal across his expression, as if he truly found her impressive and wonderful.

Cecilia extended her hand to me first, all but completely ignoring John. Her eyes were dark, I thought faintly. My attention was rushing everywhere and my mind could not stay still as I watched her. I knew she had sensed my discomfort immediately, there was no use in trying to hide anything from her gaze.

The moment could not have been more than several seconds, but they passed so slowly for me. As I took her hand I had the odd sensation that something completely unnoticed by the men was passing between us. She smiled at me very slowly and bowed her dainty head. Our moment of agreement was over, I had seen her completely exposed, and in her own way she had seen me in very much the same way.

With all pleasantries completed I was ushered into the carriage, the burlap sack placed securely into my lap. Miguel took his place in the driver's seat with John by his side. Cecilia and silently ushered me into the carriage. She placed a sweet smelling shawl about my shoulders as the coach begin to slowly roll out of the clearing and on to Bristol. We had four hours until we reached our destination, so I closed my eyes and settled for sleep that would not come.

I sat with my eyes closed for at least an hour before I lost the will to continue pretending. As my eyes slowly fluttered open, I noticed that Cecilia was staring directly at me. I blushed and pulled the soft shawl around my form. The coach had grown increasingly cool as we raced on through the countryside and into the night. John and Miguel's dull murmuring had died off long ago, and only the jouncing and cracking of the carriage punctuated the silence.

The light in the carriage was just enough that I could see the contours of her face. She was young, and more than that beyond the painted lips and strong eyes she was perfectly beautiful. She smiled subtly, as if hearing my thoughts. Yet I made no attempt to change what was running through my mind. She could see it anyway.

She parted her lips, in a full smile, displaying perfect long teeth. I matched her smile, as she moved across the carriage to sit beside me. I could smell the sweet sweat on her mixed with some sort of lilac perfume. Her hair, falling loose of it's plaits brushed me gently across the left cheek.

"What are you so afraid of, Wendy Darling?" she spoke suddenly. Her voice was as thick and rich as I had imagined it might be. Her hand quickly found mine and she pulled me closer. Instead of feeling ashamed or embarrassed I felt alive. Her skin was cool and smooth as it moved across my own.

"Everything," I breathed quietly. As she put her slender arm around me I let my head fall onto her soft shoulder. And after so many nights of laying awake beneath my sheets, I succumbed to long overdue slumber. As I drifted away from the reality I felt Cecilia's lips brushing across my forehead...


End file.
